


Two by Two, December, It's Blue

by TheCarrot



Category: Leverage, The Librarians (TV 2014)
Genre: Blue - Freeform, Dancing, December - Freeform, F/M, New Years, Synesthesia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-02
Updated: 2019-01-02
Packaged: 2019-10-03 04:49:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17277359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheCarrot/pseuds/TheCarrot
Summary: Cassandra and Eliot meet on New Years Eve.





	Two by Two, December, It's Blue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [0hHeyThereBigBadWolf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/0hHeyThereBigBadWolf/gifts).



> Happy Birthday my dear @0heheytherebigbadwolf !!!!
> 
> May 2019 bring you all the best hun!! Love you so much!!

December has always been blue. For as long as she can remember. 

Dark blue skies and light blues hues.

Blue ice like diamonds and snow-like shadows so light they almost disappear. 

Azure fours and the fading aquamarine of carolers outside.

Always blue on blue.

Only, this December its different. Tired blue eyes meeting blue eyes like steel.

It’s a blue dress and a blue tie.

From the top of the stairs Cassandra can see the dark curtains hanging from every table and window, every doorway adorned with tasteful silver stars and New Year banners glittering in the dim light. It’s a dark blue rug against silver heels leading Cassandra down the stairs and into the crowded ballroom below. 

Her head throbs in time with the jazz music thats swinging back and forth while ribbons of sound swirl within the confines of her vision. 

People dance around her in sets of two.

Two by two.

Blue on blue.

Two by two…

She keeps the Firefly reference to herself and looks away, eyes falling on the two forms of her parents standing by the appetizer table talking with a stranger; a stranger who is radiating dark navy lines out of his mouth as he speaks. Approaching them Cassandra silently slips in beside her mother and waits to be noticed, trying to ignore the swivels of the chandelier above. 

“How rude of us, Mr. Moreau, our daughter Cassandra.” Her mother addresses her finally and for a moment Cassandra can not look away from the dancing men and women beyond the terrifying stranger before her. “Please excuse her, she hasn’t been well lately.”

“It’s not a problem Mrs. Cilian.” 

The strangers accent hurts her ears and across the room a joyous shout makes her wince, her ears feel like her brain is leaking out of them. 

“Cassandra. This is our associate Mr. Damian Moreau. Say hello.” 

Cassandra doesn’t. 

“All is well Mr. Cillian, please excuse my own lack of introductions.” Moreau chuckles and the dark navy blue wraps around her and Cassandra’s eyes go wide just as what feels like a block of ice starts trailing down her spine. “Where has he gotten to… Spencer!”

The navy blue fades away as an orange low southern drawl seeps into the cold air between Cassandra and her parents.

“Ah there he is, may I introduce my personal protection detail, Eliot Spencer.” Moreau waves his arm towards the man coming up at his side. 

Cassandra feels the colours of the music sharpen drastically, drowning out the swirls and circular patterns of the dancing partygoers and even the excited greetings of her parents as they shake hands with the muscled man who stands before them, his awkwardness palatable. 

Blue eyes meet blue, one set framed by red hair falling around her face and the other by slicked back brown, stuck up in every direction and for a moment, her headache vanishes. Cassandra inhales the smell of applesauce as she follows the way equations trace every angle of Eliot Spencers jaw. She’s entranced by the measurements she sees there as well; the depth of his eyes, length of his frown lines and the age of the scars littering his brow and cheeks. Cassandra’s zeroed in on Eliot completely and she doesn’t realize she’s smiling until her mother puts her hand on her back.

The navy blue wisps come back with a vengeance at the touch, sounds rushing into her ears and sulphur assaulting her as the smell of applesauce vanishes, completely overpowered by her fathers cologne. 

“Perhaps Cassandra will be some company to Mr. Spencer while we conduct our business.” 

Eliot takes a step towards Damian, as if it was second nature to stand by his side and Cassandra breath catches in her dry throat when Moreau reaches out to brush a hand across his bodyguards lapel. 

The small wisp against the wool tastes like cigarettes in her mouth.

“Yes, that sounds wonderful. Eliot.”

It does not sound wonderful to Cassandra. 

She’s never tasted nor smelt anything with her enhanced senses that ever reminded her so much of poison and dark than she has now with Damian Moreau; and, had her parents spoken to her at any point in the past year instead of merely at her, Cassandra may have been a bit more hesitant in watching her mother and father walk away with such a man. 

As it is, the dark navy lines leave with Moreau and the acidic smell of her fathers cologne also disappears, quickly being replaced by the raucous laughter of the other partiers. It doesn’t smell like anything and Cassandra takes a slow breath of relief. It doesn’t last as the pressure starts to build back into her usual headache but Cassandra startles as a well worn hand enters her line of vision, chasing away the arcs and chords sinking into her skin.

“Would you dance with me?” Eliot asks, voice low and gravelly. 

Cassandra turns to glance at the crowds, one hand flattening out the front of her dress, the light blue velvet singing a hymn beneath her fingers as the fabric changes direction. She takes Eliot’s proffered hand and the warm orange glow of his drawl draws her attention away from the overpowering sights and sounds of the room. The smile she gifts him is an honest one. “Thank you.Yes, I… thank you.”

Eliot notices the annotation to her voice and startles. “For what?” He asks as he carefully starts to lead Cassandra around the edges of the dance floor.

“For asking me to dance. No one ever has before.” 

Ice blue eyes trail across her face and the red head can feel the path like fire across her skin. “How do you feel?” Eliot asks as a reply.

She doesn’t ask how he knows her brains pounding away in her head. Chalks it up to the way she looks and the pale parlour of her skin beneath the make up. “Fine.” She lies. 

Eliot frowns, using a strong arm to pull Cassandra closer, watching as her face flushes with the heat of the dozens of dancers around them and of his chest pressed close to hers. He barely givers her any room, lips pressed into flaming red hair as if he could kiss away the pain like a loved one would do for a child. 

Cassandra gasps, bright blue eyes wide, sparkling in the reflection of the lights around the room and she feels dizzy with the elation of it all. It’s like a shot of morphine right into her heart. All the pain gone in an instant. 

In just one look. 

Her fingers twitch with nerves, lit with a fire and breath caught deep in her lungs like a rattlesnake in a cage. Her headache is gone, replaced with a dizzying euphoria as Eliot leads her out onto the stone balcony just as her knees give out.

She detaches from the older man, breath coming faster and faster, lights flashing before her eyes in an array she can’t keep up with and she leans against the wrought iron, slowly counting down as she sinks to the ground.

“Seven is Indigo. Six is Emerald.”

“Four is Glow. Three is Green. Two is Blue.”

Eliot watches from a distant, several steps away from the cowering red head, careful and cautious as she calms herself. Watching with the fascination one would give a car accident.

It feels like forever for the hexagons in the sky to stop falling and Cassandra collapses against the railing, feeling the numerous folds in the metal against her dress. 

Together, they don’t so much as bask in the silence so much as readily accept it and lean into it like an old friend. 

“You a’right?” 

Cassandra doesn’t respond right away, lets the cold end-of-December-air crystallize on her skin and feels the snowflakes starting to form in the air around her. 

Octagons and protons. 

Slopes and light blue fractals. 

“Yes. Yes. I’m good now.”

It’s almost not a lie.

“I have a tumour.” Cassandra says.

Eliot frowns. “I didn’t ask…” 

“People always do.” 

Taking a deep breath the older man reaches up and runs a hand through his hair, messing up it’s odd styling and watches his breath form into a cloud before him. 

“You know, my brother liked a person like you.”

Cassandra’s eyes fly open and it’s like watching a window latch catch in the wind, bursting forth of it’s own accord. She has no idea what he means beyond the orange balm his voice emits. “What?”

Eliot shrugs his blue blazer closer to him, moving forward to crouch down in front of the thinly dressed woman before him. He pulls Cassandra to her feet, smiling softly at her squeak as he wraps his arms around her frozen frame. “He did…. Some old artist that saw and listened to the same things you can see.” He’s read her dossier and knows as much as syntesthetes as humanly possible. Moreau told him to befriend the girl… but now, his own conscious is winning out. 

His own heart.

He doesn’t want to be her friend.

Heart thumping madly in time with the upbeat music of Count Bassie inside, Eliot drops his head to Cassandra’s shoulder, revealing in the soft touch of blue velvet where he rests.

“I don’t want to go back inside.” Cassandra admits, pale fingers clutching like a vice to the dark blue blazer beneath her grip. She lets her head fall back, painfully far, as she presses closer to the human in front of her. Further than she’s ever been to another person before. Equations of distance and rotations dance just beyond her reach as clouds form in front of their light source.

Inside the ball room a clock chimes and the meaningless counting of the voices within ends as the people ring out in cheers and shouts. 

Cassandra winces as the red sound waves flow out of the balcony door beside them and she mindlessly raises her hands to cover her ears even if her own eyes never leave the shrouded moon.

She’s counting under her breath. 

No longer focused on anything but the slow passage of time.

Eliot’s holds her quietly, watching her, his own hands leaving her back only to reach up and cover Cassandra’s. Her fingers are cold against his own and the bodyguard smirks when the woman shivers, her breath stuttering as she momentarily loses track of the universal count of seconds.

He knows it’s not midnight yet; despite the people inside. 

He can tell by her.

“It’s like a cage in there.” Cassandra whispers. And she means everywhere. Eyes shimmering with unshed tears, not daring to look at the warm, solid body holding hers. 

Eliot smiles softly, “Well... I know how to pick a lock.”

It’s like he knows all the answers to every questions she’s never asked. 

There’s a shade of blue starting to glow at their feet as the moon comes back out from behind the cloud and Cassandra can feel he change in the air. The shiver down her spine sends goosebumps up Eliot’s arm.

“It’s midnight.” 

Cassandra straightens up, her arms falling around Eliot’s shoulders as the scent of applesauce envelopes them. Moonlight is like the numbers beyond infinity as it cascades around the two figures on the balcony. 

Eliot glances up at the moon momentarily then lets his own ice blue eyes fall to Cassandras cerulean orbs. 

“Yes it is.” 

He pulls her in close, presses his lips to her and doesn’t let go.

For the first time, Cassandra feels the fireworks beneath her skin instead of just witnessing them. 

She’s never felt anything like it.


End file.
